


Break the Ice Apart

by preussisch_blau



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Abuse of Italics Tags, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Sorry Not Sorry, fluff?, this is a little silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preussisch_blau/pseuds/preussisch_blau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry takes Wells ice skating.</p>
<p>Wells wasn't kidding when he said it would be an exercise in humiliation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break the Ice Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Went skating the other day and could not get the image out of my head of Barry and Harry going skating. So, yes, vaguely silly not-so-little one shot resulted.
> 
> Could be read as shippy, could be read as just friendship. Pick your poison, really.

He pops into S.T.A.R. Labs before work with one goal on his mind: to get Harrison Wells out of the lab for just one night.

To be fair, this wasn't Barry's initial plan when he was given two passes to the ice skating rink. He'd asked Patty to go with him first, but her schedule was booked solid for the next week. He considered asking Iris, but he knew she wasn't the best skater, and would most likely decline.

And, okay, sure. He could have asked Caitlin or Cisco, but he didn't want Dr Wells to be his absolute _last_ resort. That just felt kinda wrong, because the guy had agreed to stay here and help them, and… well, it wasn't like they'd been the absolute nicest to him. It wasn't his fault Eobard Thawne had stolen the identity of their world's actual Dr Wells.

So Barry zipped into the lab, and sat himself in Wells' chair in the blink of an eye.

When Wells turns around, he visibly jumps. He inhales, exhales shakily, and shoots Barry a somewhat cold look. "Is knocking not a thing on this earth?"

"Sorry," he replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought you mighta heard me come in."

"Unfortunately, no. The alarms that detect speedsters were programmed to ignore your energy signature, if you recall."

"Right, yeah, I remember."

Wells sighs. "Is there something you need?" He folds his arms over his chest, looks at a point just over Barry's shoulder.

Weird. It's almost like Wells is actively avoiding looking him in the eye. Then again, he might just still feel bad about nearly getting him killed. Which was _weeks_ ago, but considering Barry still feels shaken sometimes from it? Totally giving Wells a pass on this one.

"Yeah. You busy tonight?" Barry grins. He clasps his hands behind his head and leans back, resisting the urge to spin the chair a bit.

"Yes."

"Liar." Barry's grin grows wider, a bit cheeky, and he can see Wells bristle at that.

"In case you've forgotten, Zoom has my daughter. And intends to kill you. I'm trying to figure out how to stop him. Which means that, yes, I am busy." Wells glowers at him, and wow, that is almost as scary as Eobard was.

Barry presses on regardless, because he hasn't even asked what he came here to ask. And without a firm 'no', he's not going to just give up and go ask Cisco or Caitlin. "Okay, no, I haven't forgotten. I definitely remember that. But locking yourself up in here all the time isn't going to help."

Wells uncrosses his arms and turns away, back to his computer, where he types something in and clicks at whatever program he's running. "You're going to have to enlighten me as to the benefit of _not_ devoting all my time and energy to solving this problem."

Does this guy not know the meaning of relax? Barry is seriously almost convinced he doesn't. He gets up to peer over Wells' shoulder. It's… chemicals? Some sort of chemical compound. He doesn't recognise the molecular structure; it's not anything he had to learn when he studied forensics. "What's that?"

"Nothing, yet." Wells minimises the window, before looking over at Barry. "You haven't explained yourself, by the way."

"I haven't?" he replies almost innocently.

"No. Now explain yourself, and I might be nice enough to explain what I'm working on."

"Does that count as bribery or extortion?" Barry quips. "Anyways, you need to relax-"

Wells turns towards him, rolls his eyes as he interrupts. "I fail to see how I can _relax_ when-"

"Zoom has your daughter. I know, believe me, I know." Barry holds his hands up defensively. "But you're gonna burn yourself out at this rate, and that's not gonna help anyone."

That earns him a rather loud exhale, Wells pinching the bridge of his nose. "So, you asked if I had plans, knowing I have nothing else to do _but_ work on stopping Zoom, because you intend on… what? Dragging me somewhere?"

"Yep!"

"No."

"Oh, come on!" Barry tries and fails at not sounding a little petulant. "You won't even hear what I had planned?"

"Will it help you understand the word 'No' if I hear you out?" Wells drops his hand, to raise an eyebrow at Barry.

"Maybe?"

"Fine. What did you have planned."

"That's the spirit!"

" _Barry._ "

"Fine, fine. I got two passes to go ice skating, and I was wondering if you wanted to come?" Barry reaches into his pocket and produces the two slips of card-stock in question. He holds them up with a grin.

"What, did no one else want to go with you?" Wells looks distinctly unimpressed, borderline offended, as he turns back to his work.

It's Barry's turn to sigh in frustration as he puts the passes back into his pocket. "No, actually, you're only the second person I've asked."

That causes Wells to draw up short, turning back towards him with an expression of open surprise. It only lasts a few seconds before his face closes off again, but Barry can't help but feel a little triumphant. Maybe that would help wear him down.

"I'm assuming you asked your girlfriend first."

"Well, yeah."

Wells huffs out a laugh. "Not surprised."

"So…?"

"My answer is still no."

"What? Why?" Barry frowns. Damn it, he thought he almost had him.

The barest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Wells' mouth. "Because it would be an exercise in humiliation."

Barry acts on impulse, reaching out to lightly punch Wells on the shoulder. Which earns him a dirty look, entirely deserved, because he knows the guy has a weird aversion to physical contact. "I'm not the best skater myself. Doesn't mean it's not _fun._ Or do you like fun about as much as you like being touched?"

Wells just _looks_ at him, and wow Barry did not realise it was possible to feel that chastised by a single look that wasn't from his dad or Joe.

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

Barry shrugs. "Hey, isn't that why you decided to get my help with Zoom?"

Wells rubs his forehead, glances back at his computer, then sighs. It's a rather defeated sound. "I suppose I can make some time while I have simulations run."

"Awesome! I'll be back around 5!" With that, he bolts from the lab, yellow lightning crackling in his wake. He's going to be on time for work, just once, he swears. Otherwise there's no way he'll finish up in time to be back here when he said he'd be.

Wells' voice echoes down the hall after him. "BARRY! GET BACK HERE AND HELP ME PICK THESE UP!"

Maybe for Christmas he should have gotten everyone paperweights.

\------

"Wait, wait, wait. Lemme get this straight. You asked _Wells_ over _us?_ " Cisco sounds mortally offended as he confronts Barry. "Dr Tall, Dark, and Shady? Over your _friends?_ "

"Dr _Wells_ needs to get out of the lab at some point, Cisco," Barry replies. He didn't think he'd have to defend himself this much. He'd thought after that whole debacle with Weather Wizard and the Trickster, Cisco had warmed up to Wells a little. Though, he kind of can't blame Cisco? He did get actually killed by a guy with the same face. And Wells can be a dick. Actually, if Wells _had_ been a jerk to Cisco recently, that would explain the sudden offense being taken now.

Caitlin also objects, though not on the grounds of Wells being a jerk. "He got _shot,_ Barry, because Patty recognised who he was. What if someone calls the cops? You can't exactly run him out of there without giving away who you are."

He has to concede her point, and does so with a grimace. "But I can't just take the offer back _now._ And, I mean, he probably considered that when he agreed?"

Cisco and Caitlin look at each other. He can almost see them planning something without saying a word. So he leans over, tries to get a good look at both of them, see if he can't figure out what they're thinking.

It's Caitlin who breaks the silence first. "We'll try to talk him out of it."

Cisco nods firmly and opens his mouth to speak.

"Talk who out of what?" Wells interrupts.

They all turn as one towards the doorway where Wells stands. He looks ready to leave, Barry notes with pleasure. Jacket on and zipped, ball cap pulled down his forehead. Though he also looks a touch uncomfortable. Which really won't do.

But before he can say anything, Cisco cuts in. "Talk you out of going! I mean, do you want to get shot again? Because leaving this building is how you get shot again."

Wells sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Your concern is very touching, Ramon."

Barry finds himself continuously amazed by this Wells' ability to sound utterly insincere and borderline sarcastic over just about any display of friendliness.

"Excuse me for caring," Cisco holds his hands up, turns away dramatically.

"Because your concern has nothing to do with me being, what was it, tall, dark, and shady?"

"You heard that?!" Cisco whips around. "But you just. You. You knew we were talking about you! And you asked anyways!"

Wells shrugs. "I wanted to see if you'd admit to it. It's not my fault none of you noticed me come in."

Caitlin cuts in before things devolve into World War III, because they really don't need that in the middle of the Cortex. "Alright you two. That's enough."

Cisco and Wells continue shooting each other glares across the Cortex. It's enough to give Barry a headache. Could they _not,_ for more than the time it takes to defeat some villain? Something tells him that he's engaging in wishful thinking.

"Right, well, we're going. Call if something comes up." Before anyone else can argue, Barry darts from the Cortex, though not without making a quick stop to grab Wells and carry him out with him.

He does at least stop right outside the building to put Wells down, fully expecting to get chewed out for snatching him up like that. Instead, the look he gets is almost… grateful? He tries to not read too much into it, because maybe he's misinterpreting, but then Wells speaks.

"I thought we'd never get out of there."

"I thought you wanted to stay and work on stopping Zoom?" Barry teases.

Wells offers a one-shouldered shrug as he starts walking towards 'his' car. It's actually one of the old S.T.A.R. Labs corporate vehicles, from back when the labs were actually in operation, a viable company. But he's commandeered it, same as he did to Cisco's lab. "I said I would accompany you."

"Even if it might get you shot?"

"About that…" Wells presses a button on his key fob. The car lights blink and the locks click loudly as they unlock. "It might be best if you _didn't_ call me Wells while we're out."

Barry nods, although it's still a little strange to call Wells 'Harry'. Not that he hasn't warmed up to it, but the name does feel odd on his tongue when he connects it to _this_ face. He knows it's just because of the other Wells, who wasn't really Dr Wells, but. All that habit, all that hero worship for a man he always called 'Dr Wells' and never even _once_ 'Harrison'? Yeah, it makes things awkward for him sometimes. He slides into the passenger seat and buckles himself in.

"Of course, 'Harry' might not be the best idea either, depending on the situation," Wells notes wryly. He turns the key in the ignition, turns in his seat to see as he backs out of the parking space.

"I… maybe? Wait, why?" Barry looks over at him, confused. It feels like the answer should be obvi- _Oh._ "Oh right, duh. Because Harry could be short for Harrison."

Wells turns back around when they're out of the space, to shift the car into drive. He spares a glance at Barry, a smirk twisting his lips. "Exactly. So, do you think you could manage a different last name for tonight?"

"Um. Maybe?" He thinks he could. It'd probably be hard, but it's a matter of life or death for Wells -literally-, so he knows he _has_ to. Barry rubs the back of his neck as he thinks about this. "Did you have something in mind?"

\-------

He's gotten his skates from the rental area, and is headed to a bench to put them on while he waits for Wells, when he hears the other man speak. At first, Barry isn't too terribly concerned. It's just him stating his shoe size so he can get skates, after all, even if his voice is raspy and terse and just generally _not_ friendly.

But then…

"Is there a reason you're _staring_ at me?"

Barry turns around, a creeping sensation of dread working its way up his spine. Wells is standing there, tall and proud, one hand resting on the counter. He can't see his face from back here, but he knows that tone and he knows that Wells must be glaring daggers at the poor girl working tonight. Which really isn't going to help if she's thinking what Barry thinks she's thinking.

"Uh. Um. Y-you." The girl behind the counter looks nervous, her eyes locked on Wells' face as though she's not quite sure who she's looking at. Like she's not sure she likes what she thinks she sees. "You look. Um. Fa-mil-iar?"

Barry doesn't even need to see Wells' face to know that the man is rolling his eyes, because he _always_ rolls his eyes when people make _that_ mistake. Wells drums his fingers on the counter-top, and his shoulders move up and down with a huff.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Lemme guess. Harrison Wells." He sounds distinctly annoyed now.

The girl swallows, and Barry swears he can almost _hear_ it. Her hand slips below the counter, like she's reaching for something. He wonders if it would be too suspicious if he zipped over and stopped her from doing… whatever it is she plans to. Probably. He inhales nervously and hopes this doesn't end abruptly with the cops being called.

"Yeah…"

"Right, well, I'm not him. Last I looked, he was dead. And before that he was paralysed. So if you could _kindly_ do your job and get me a pair of skates?"

The girl's hand stills for a moment. Draws back. Reaches down. Like she's not entirely sure if she believes Wells, but she wants to believe him. Barry steels himself, and walks back over at a perfectly normal fast pace. He drops his hand down on Wells' shoulder.

"Hey, Chambers! What's taking so long? They out of your size?"

Wells looks over at him, relief at the interruption warring with annoyance at being touched. Barry was pretty sure if they didn't have some semblance of cover to maintain, Wells would have removed his hand by now. (And he wasn't sure if Wells would remove it from his person, or remove it from _Barry's._ ) "At this rate, they _better_ be." He casts a dark look over at the rental girl.

Who squeaks. And darts over to where the men's skates are to start looking for his size. Barry can't quite tell if she's been convinced that Wells isn't _Wells,_ but at least she's stopped reaching for what he can now see is a phone. Which is some relief, because maybe it means she won't call the cops after all.

"Would it kill you to be nice to the poor lady?" he teases.

Wells just rolls his eyes as the girl returns, carrying a pair of well-worn black skates in shaky hands. "Probably, considering she was rude first. I mean, really, accusing me of being a known _murderer_ is _not_ acceptable customer service."

Barry just shakes his head as Wells hands over the ticket and snatches the skates from the girl's hand. She still looks vaguely terrified as Wells storms off. He offers her a small smile, trying to be reassuring. "Sorry about him. He's… a bit of an ass. And kinda touchy about the whole, 'Wow, you could be Harrison Wells' twin!' thing. Not that I blame him, but…"

The girl laughs nervously, but he can see she's beginning to calm down. "I guess I would be too. What with, you know." She makes a vague hand gesture. "But, wow, how on Earth does he have _friends?_ "

It's Barry's turn to laugh. "I'm more stubborn than he is?" Which, really, is the truth. "Have a good evening, okay."

He hurries away from the growing line to go sit next to Wells.

"Mayyyybe this wasn't such a good idea…" Barry mutters.

Any further thought down that road is interrupted by an elbow hitting his side. He startles. Looks over at Wells. Who is distinctly not looking at him as he loosens the laces on his skates.

"Shut up, Barry."

\-------

He's done tying his skates before Wells, which is weird because Wells definitely had at least a minute head start, so he carefully gets to his feet to head out onto the ice. His ankles wobble, and he's reminded of why he hasn't gone skating in almost a decade. This is probably going to hurt. A lot. Not because of exertion -he's too used to the exercise he gets as the Flash-, but because he knows he's going to fall at _least_ ten times. Barry swears his knees are already trying to collapse towards each other, and he hopes he at least makes it onto the ice before his first fall.

"Barry, get back here."

He stops just short of the entrance to the rink, and not just because Wells sounds like he has every expectation of being obeyed. He looks over his shoulder with a frown. "Why?"

Wells is staring at him, face blank. "Because you are going to fall and you are going to break something and I really do _not_ feel like taking you to the hospital."

He sighs and turns around slowly, to carefully make his way on shaky legs back to the bench. "I'm gonna fall anyways. I'm not really that good at this."

"Mm." Wells motions for him to sit, and he does. Then the man shocks him, by grabbing his leg and pulling his foot up into his lap before Barry can react.

"What are you doing?!" He manages to keep his voice down, at least, because the last thing he wants to do is draw too much attention to them.

Wells' fingers make quick work of undoing the laces, freeing them from the hooks. And then he starts tugging at them, starting from the bottom and slowly working his way up. "Tell me if it's too tight," he murmurs.

Barry isn't sure he could, to be honest. Because Wells _definitely_ seems to know what he's doing, as he works the slack out of the lacing, adjusts the tongue of the boot so it sits straight. When he reaches the ankle, Barry winces, because Wells pulls _hard_. But it's not too tight, he doesn't think? He crosses the laces around each other, like he's about to tie the knot. And then he's on to the hooks, bringing the laces over them, then down and around. Up to the next set. Over, down, around, up. Over, down, around, up. And then he wraps the laces around each other again, before tying them into a bow.

Bunny ears. Harrison Wells ties shoelaces using _bunny ears._

"Other foot." He smacks the side of Barry's foot lightly to get him to move it off his lap.

Barry is still a little too stunned to do anything but comply.

When Wells is finally done, Barry gets to his feet again, and _wow._ His ankles actually don't feel like they're going to collapse at any second. In fact, he feels almost as secure in these skates as he does in his suit. His knees still aren't too sure about this whole balancing on glorified razor blades thing, but they aren't ready to give way either. Probably because he's actually got support around his ankles.

"I thought you said you weren't good at skating!" he accuses.

Wells looks up from his own skates, though his fingers don't stop working over the laces. "No, I said this would be an exercise in humiliation. You're the one who assumed _I_ would be the one humiliated."

Wells is _smirking_ at him. He's smirking! He's being all smug and Barry feels an odd mixture of amusement and indignation building up in him.

"Oh my _God,_ you're an absolute _bastard._ "

"My parents were married when I was born," Wells remarks, looking back down to tie his laces, and Barry almost clarifies that on Earth-1, bastard is synonymous with asshole, but.

But.

He saw Wells break out into a grin before his face was entirely out of Barry's view. And there was nothing sarcastic or insincere about it. Harrison Wells was actually, genuinely _happy._

And it causes the oddest sort of warmth to flutter in his chest to know that he's the one who put that smile there.

\-------

"Oh God, oh God, I have regrets. I have regrets!"

Barry is clinging to the wall, trying to keep his skates under him and not hit the ice until at least five minutes have passed. Wells, meanwhile, is perfectly balanced, standing in front of and facing him. He wasn't kidding when he said this would be an exercise in humiliation. Barry can't help but wonder how it is that he can run at high speeds, perform exercises in agility that would make an Olympic gymnast _weep,_ and yet he _can't balance on a pair of ice skates._

"Unlock your knees."

"What do you _mean_ unlock my knees?"

Wells sighs, face impassive. But there's an odd glimmer in his eyes. "I mean bend your knees."

"No way! I'm definitely gonna fall if I do that."

"No, you aren't. Centre of gravity, Barry. If you lower it closer to the ice, you're less likely to fall. Now _bend your damn knees._ "

Barry groans, but he can tell Wells isn't going to let him alone until he does as he's told. So he bends his knees just a little, barely letting any sort of angle form. Which only earns him a frustrated huff.

" _What?_ "

"More."

"No."

He stares at Wells, determined not to give in any more because he can feel himself teetering even more now. If bending his knees a little didn't help any, he's pretty sure bending them more is just going to end with him sprawled on the ice.

Wells just stares back, lips drawn to a thin, tight line. He's thinking. Barry would know that look anywhere. And then he holds out both his hands.

"Take my hands."

"What." That's less because he didn't understand the instruction and more because, for the third time tonight, Wells is willingly touching him.

"I sincerely hope that I don't need to explain myself," Wells retorts.

He doesn't want to release the wall. He really doesn't want to release the wall. He releases the wall and quickly grabs onto Wells' hands before he falls over. Except they wobble, and Barry can feel himself _slipping..._

And the motion is halted by his arms practically being yanked from their sockets. 

He's down in a low crouch, looking up at Wells who has his arms raised up until Barry's elbows are locked out straight. And the man looks like he's trying his absolute best to not laugh. Actually, he's succeeding, because he isn't laughing, but Barry can just _sense_ the laughter anyways. He carefully pushes himself away from the ice, knees shaking a bit, heels threatening to slide out from under him. And Wells slowly lowers his arms, until Barry is standing with his arms in front of him.

"Relax," Wells says, and then he starts inching backwards. Which, okay, this isn't bad. Being slowly pulled along the ice. Except.

No. Oh no. No no _no_ he does _not_ like the look Wells is giving him.

That look is all the warning he gets before Wells suddenly cuts his leg back in a sweeping arch.

He might be one of the fastest men alive. He might be capable of running at over 1,500 miles per hour. And yet he is still _absolutely terrified_ by how fast he's being dragged along. Wells won't let them crash, right? He's barely even glancing over his shoulder and they are going to run into someone or something and what happened to not wanting to go to the hospital?

Barry drops his weight a bit, knees bending in anticipation of the inevitable collision he is going to have with either Wells or the ice.

"I'm going to let go."

"Like Hell you are!" He grips tighter just to make his point clear.

"…It's like running. Just make sure your toe doesn't hit the ice."

"Not letting go. Can't make me."

"Coward."

His head snaps up from where he'd been focusing on their hands, focusing to make sure Wells didn't let go, to look him in the eyes. The last time he heard that word in that tone, Wells had been tearing into Jay for not fighting against Zoom. And while at the time Barry had secretly, guiltily agreed with him? Now he totally understood why Jay had fled.

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me." It's like all the ice beneath them has transported itself into Wells' voice, to drip from his mouth with scorn. "Too afraid to let go. Just going to cling to others to hold you up forever. Call yourself a hero? What kind of hero is afraid to risk a fall."

Anger burns hot in his chest, and he actually wants to push Wells away. Which he can't do when he's clinging to his hands. Without even thinking about it, Barry releases him, shifts his weight so he can glide past him, and -it's totally petty, he knows- throws an elbow as he draws parallel with Wells.

The 'oof' he hears from behind him as he moves further down the ice is oddly satisfying.

It doesn't even occur to him that he's actually _skating_ and not wobbling or anything until he's halfway around the rink. Which, incidentally, is when his success ends. His toe catches the ice, and he stops suddenly as the pick digs in. He gets back to gliding, though this time it's on his side as he slides a few feet from where he tripped.

Barry comes to a stop against the wall. Groans. That hurt. He curls in on himself, keeping fingers close so they don't get cut off by a passing skater. Next thing he knows, there's the scrape of ice being shaved away, as a pair of black skates stops in front of him. And then there's Wells, crouching, offering a hand out with a smile on his face.

"If I'd known making you angry would get you to stop thinking about falling, I might have done that sooner."

He groans again, but takes the offered hand as he gets his feet back under him. "You know, _most_ people would apologise for deliberately pissing someone off."

"Yes, well, I'm not most people."

Wells waits until Barry is finally sure his feet won't slide out and away before he begins to stand up. And Barry follows, slowly but surely. Yeah, Wells definitely isn't most people. "Seriously, Harry, this is why Cisco doesn't like you."

All he gets in response is a raised eyebrow and an, "And I don't like him. Your point?"

Barry releases his hand, rubs his elbow where it hit the ice. He's not entirely sure what his point is. Like, he knows it wouldn't kill Wells to be nice, because the man can be extremely nice and polite when he's not being treated like crap. He also knows Wells is, whether by nature or practise, an absolute _dick,_ because he's seen how Wells reacted to hearing about what Thawne had done, seen how he'd exploited Cisco's trauma to force him to use his powers.

So, really, Wells deciding that being an asshole is the best way to get Barry to do what he wants? Shouldn't surprise him.

He finally goes with, "Do you _really_ think it's in your best interest to piss off one of the few people who actually _likes_ you? And doesn't expect you to betray us?"

Wells cringes at that. Not just his face. No, that was a full body cringe. Shoulders drawing up, hands clenching a bit helplessly, shudder going down his spine. "I… concede your point," he finally says, voice tense.

"Sorry. That was kind of a low blow." Because he knows Wells really hates being compared to Eobard Thawne. And he went there anyways. And he's kind of surprised that he wasn't snarked at, but probably by now Wells feels like they should trust him, and just doesn't like being reminded that he's still considered suspicious.

"It's fine. Now, come on. You were doing well." Wells turns easily and pushes off, gliding down the ice with practised grace.

\-------

When they get back to S.T.A.R. Labs, it's late. Pushing midnight. And Barry is a little worse for the wear, extremely grateful that he heals fast, because he hit the ice a few more times that night and he's definitely still bruised.

But even though he's sore, he can't help but smile. Because Wells had clearly enjoyed himself. Especially as the night wore on and skaters cleared out. When the rink had emptied out a bit… Well. That was when he'd seen what Wells could _really_ do on a pair of skates.

The man was _fast._ Fast enough that, the first time he'd blazed past Barry, Barry felt his heart skip a beat from instinctive fear. He'd truly half expected red lightning to be left sparking in Wells' wake, and he felt entirely guilty for that thought when reason returned to him.

Especially because, really, even on the ice his speed was barely a tenth of what Barry's slowest had been, back when he'd first woken up from his coma.

That was actually what had led to his last, worst fall. Seeing that kind of speed was just a bit contagious, and he wanted to keep up. And, okay, he _swore_ he'd heard Wells say, "Nyoom!" as the man lapped him for like the _sixth_ time. He would swear to what he'd heard until the day he _died._ So, you know, he had to catch up. For pride. And to force Wells to confess.

He'd been about a quarter of the rink behind Wells when he over-corrected on a turn.

Which had kind of put an end to their fun, even though Barry swore up and down his wrist was _fine._

So now here they were, back where this all began. Except now Wells looks more relaxed, posture loose, as he lays down on the cot he'd set up for his bed. A far cry from the visibly tense, defensive man Barry'd asked to accompany him this morning. And if a slight smile plays at the edges of Wells' mouth, well, Barry won't say anything.

"If I can't move in the morning, you're bringing me ibuprofen. And a Coke. And a burger." Wells drops his hand over his eyes. "Actually, scratch that, I'll take the burger now. I feel like I could eat a _whole cow._ "

"Okay, do you even eat anything other than burgers? 'Cause I'm seriously concerned for your health here."

Wells lifts his hand slightly to look at Barry. "Yes, I do."

"Like what?"

"Steaks. Roast beef. Hot dogs -I prefer the kosher kind. Veal. Ri-"

"All of those come from _cows._ How have you not had a _heart attack_ by now?!"

"Genetics?" He slides his hand back over his forehead, shooting Barry a deliberately innocent look. "I do exercise. Usually. I admit I've let that fall by the wayside a bit since I've arrived here."

Barry shakes his head, laughs, does his best to not think about another man with the same face, same voice, who was just as much a carnivore when it came to beef, if only because cows didn't exist any more in his time.

It doesn't help that Wells' computer chose just then to finish running his simulations. A message pops up to let them know it was done, and the lighting in the lab is dim because Wells never turned the lights on, probably intending to sleep soon. So when the screen turns itself back on, alert glowing crimson, it lights up Wells' eyes almost the same colour. The fact that his skin is bathed in the same red glow is the only thing that keeps Barry from panicking.

And he _really_ feels guilty for that.

"Okay, smartass," Barry retorts, "What do you eat that doesn't come from a cow?"

"Hm. Bread. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Onions. Musta-"

"Those are burger toppings!" Barry cries out.

Wells grins, the sort of grin that says he's well aware of how much of a shit he's being. "They don't come from cows. Although, I also like cheese, but that _does_ come from a cow, so I had to exclude it."

"Okay, you know what? Never mind. I'll bring you dinner, but _I'm_ choosing where it comes from. I'm _not_ buying you any more burgers. I refuse to let you die of heart failure before we get Jesse back."

He can see the gratitude in Wells' face, and it's enough to make Barry turn and run to go get that promised meal before they both end up embarrassed. He gets Mexican, or at least what passes for it in the middle of _Missouri,_ though he does take some pity on Wells and gets him beef tacos. And, okay, so tacos are basically the burgers of Mexican food, but at least they aren't _actually_ burgers.

He returns, half expecting Wells to be asleep. (To be honest, part of him hopes Wells is asleep, because then he can eat his share of the food instead of having to supplement this meal with one of Cisco's still awful energy bars.) But, no, the man is full of surprises, because he's sitting in front of his computer, glasses perched on his nose, a travel mug of coffee next to him and _wow_ does he need to just _stop._

"That's not your mug," Barry says as he sits one of the bags of food down next to the computer.

"Found it in the break room," he mutters. "…I'm going to guess, by your tone, that it is neither yours, Ramon's, nor Snow's."

"…You're on the right path, yeah." He puts the other bag down, which is about when Wells tears his attention from the screen to actually look at what was brought.

"I'd ask what small army we're about to feed, but I've seen how much you can eat."

He nudges one of the bags closer to Wells so he has space to sit on the desk. He even waits for him to pull out one of the foam containers -specifically, the one on top that Barry marked 'Wells'- before he reaches for some food himself. "Shut up, Harry."

**Author's Note:**

> Barry maintains there was a "nyoom".
> 
> Harry denies all allegations of "nyoom"ing.
> 
> Was there a "nyoom"? It is a mystery.


End file.
